Swallows Me Whole
by Galecia
Summary: It was her hair and skin and the way she looked up at him. She looked at him as an equal and demanded he know they stood on the same ground. He had been swallowed whole by her, refreshed and sustained. One-shot, not slash (not really).


**A/N: Don't get me wrong, I ship Destiel. That being said, I can't just ignore the relationship Jo and Dean kinda, sorta had.**

**What inspired this was a Jo Harvelle appreciation post on Tumblr and it made me look at her with a different approach. This one-shot is largely from Deans POV.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. *sadface***

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_Swallows Me Whole_

It was her hair and skin and the way she looked up at him. She looked at him as an equal and demanded he know they stood on the same ground. It was her regard for him, not taking him seriously half the time that got under his skin and she crawled her way into his heart- and stayed. She had that effect, staying long after she was gone.

In time, the memory of her became more potent than her presence.

Jo was the kind of girl poets dreamed to write about in the time of Shakespeare, independent, beautiful; so real both in touch and in mind that no words could do her justice, yet every man would try their hand. You had to see Jo, talk with her, glimpse the playful spark in her eyes to understand why this girl was who she was.

Her potential outweighed her hold life.

Dean tried his hand at catching her, would brave Ellen even to steal Jo away for a few moments of privacy. The combat in Jo's eyes stayed Dean's urge to throw out a pick-up line, one of many he used. She could hold her own, and Dean for the life of him had no clue why she caught his tongue and glued it there.

She was brave. Not the fickle bravery that overtakes someone going ignorant into a dangerous situation. She always knew the danger, used that knowledge to shield herself and those she cared for from forces that would do real harm.

Her affection was hard won, and in the moments Dean spent with Jo and her mother in that hardware store, Dean grasped how tough the girl truly was. She wasn't self-sacrificial, a lamb to distract the hungry God that needed appeasing. She was a warrior bleeding on the battlefield, not lying prone and helpless to that God. Never helpless facing Death, not giving those shadows an inch where Dean desperately wanted her to take a mile and survive.

Jo knew she wouldn't, used that understanding like a careworn axe and took as many enemies as she could with her.

When Ellen told them how it was going to be- she was staying with her daughter- Dean saw with saddened clarity that Jo didn't get her grit from the father she idolized and tried emanating by being a Hunter. It was her mother Jo strived to be like, it was just Jo had been too young to hide her true merit as Ellen had, as Ellen failed at doing and wept enough for them both.

Even in death Dean didn't understand Jo as much as he wished he could. Now they were out of time, and her lips were so cold when he kissed her, Dean feared his lips, burning against her, would only remind her of the life she was letting go of and he pulled away in time to see a little of the spark in her eyes fade.

Jo remained strong as she went, not letting go of what she was made of as easily as the hounds had gutted her. She held herself together even as her body was falling apart, blood coating every piece of her clothing and exposed skin, seeping between fabric and broken bones, reminding them that yes, this was it. She would join those that died young, as only the good ones did.

Dean felt proud, and ashamed he didn't get to know the real Jo, the one he was catching glimpses of as she dulled; leaving only bits of her in what body was left.

Those eyes turned to him, conveying hope that they'd still be able to stop the devil.

Later, it dawned on Dean he was angrier they'd died for nothing than Jo would have been. She'd take it in stride; they would stop Lucifer eventually, she just made best of a hopeless situation, swallowed whole by the desire to keep them going despite where that desire left her in the end.

Jo hadn't let the hellhounds win. She allowed them to lose.

Her only compromise in life ensured Sam and Dean escaped safely, and when they did shove Lucifer and Michael in the cage, she'd only think it was a long time coming.

Dean couldn't forget her, or Ellen. When the picture burned in Bobby's fireplace, his eyes burned their faces in memory, no flame of Hell or rush of high water could drown out his memory of Jo.

He had been swallowed whole by her, refreshed and sustained.

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**A/N: I never really wanted Dean and Jo to get together, and this wasn't meant to be a romance kinda thing, just how Dean may have viewed her (and Ellen to an extent).**

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**For those reading and following my multi-chapter fic, there will be two updates next week, one on Monday and one on a still undecided day.**


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